What He Brings Me

I wear him around my wrist.
I wear him next to my heart.
I slip my arms through him
and pull him over my shoulders.
I delight in all his gifts
and the look in his eyes
when he gives them.
But there are no words
for what he brings me.
No box big enough.
No ribbon long enough.
It's stillness and fullness.
It's insatiable and needy
in a way that scares me
more than a little.
It's vulnerable and weak,
but I open my arms to it.
Willingly.
It renews me
every day.
It makes me believe again
where I'd become cynical.
It hurts
in that good way that
beauty makes me hurt.
A rainbow
or giant silent snowflakes
or a baby asleep in my arms.
There are no games.
Only honesty.
I'm unafraid to speak my heart.
And when I start to doubt,
He takes me in his arms
And I let him.
And I taste sweet peace.